Beautiful black lab,
Running twenty miles per hour,
Resting under the truck,
Jumping at me and my sister,
The shapes the pavement cut,
Your eyes in the rain,
Your smile,
I wish you luck,
and hope you find your home.
Beautiful black lab,
I love you.
You will be remembered.
Thursday, May 27, 2010
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
Disarming
I did not do anything to cause a stray dog to take up residence in our yard. I did nothing to keep him here. It is not my responsibility to get him to leave. I am not well-suited for the job.
So, father, I won't do anything about it. You never commanded me to do something about it. You suggested "the next time you or Terri go running, see if you can get him to follow you and leave him somewhere." If it is truly a suggestion, I have the option to offer further thoughts on the matter and say no if I choose.
I simply said I thought the dog would follow us back. You yelled at me. That is not constructive, not motivating, and it is rude. You did it because you are under a mountain of stress and have been for years, probably more years than I have been alive. You did it because the dog is yet another straw on your back, a devastating problem when you're carrying sprawling fields of straw on your back, and you have no patience left to give to this new problem. You simply want it taken care of. You have not truly considered how exactly I am to "leave" the dog somewhere, you just want me to do it. To you, my comment seems rude and unhelpful. And so, in your pain and the overwhelming weight you carry, you yell at me.
I was hurt at first, as I always am. But I choose now not to take offense. For the last few days, I have submitted to tears and lamenting the injustices I see. I choose a different way.
I do not expect you to change because you have tunnel vision and tunnel thinking. You're so hunched over from the weight you bear on your back that you only see half of things. You have so much pain, and no way to cope with it. Your shouting is your tears.
I, however, am slowly standing up and walking through my anger to enlightenment. As I open my eyes and examine the situation from all angles, I begin to see ways of healing. Because I am the one who is in a position to step back from the situation, empathize, and understand, I am the one who must enact the change.
Perhaps I am wrong and his "suggestion" was a command. The thing is... "The next time you do this, see if you can do this." If it is a command, it is a command to try. "See if you can." It is not of the format "The next time you do this, do this." I consider the situation, and see a potential problem that may prevent me from doing the desired action. I voice it. That is not disobedience, and it is not rude.
So. I feel no guilt about the matter.
I did nothing wrong, but I could have handled it better. In the state he is in, he does not want to discuss the problem. He does not want to deal with the problem at all. Therefore, a better answer would have been "Okay. I'll tell Terri and we'll try." If we tried and failed, we obeyed and did nothing wrong. If we didn't have occasion to try, we still did nothing wrong. And in the mean time, he would feel better because someone else would be dealing with/helping with the problem.
And if it was a command?
I am 19 years old. I am legally an adult. Please trust me that I do not subscribe to the saying "I'm 18, I do what I want!" However, I do believe as a legal adult, as someone who has begun college (which is essentially another independent life), I have the right to think and act for myself. I do not believe I am obligated to blindly obey my father simply because he is my father. I am his child, but I am now his adult child. I am not an extension of his body or of his will. I am a separate being.
I will not be shackled by blood. I will not be shackled by money. I am his child, but I am not his employee or his slave. He and my mother are paying for most of my education, but they are not buying my soul.
I am not his to command.
I must take commands from the government and from teachers because I choose to be a member of their institutions with the understanding that I must obey their laws.
No one chooses her father. Fathers choose to have children (or to risk having children). In making that choice, a parent is obligated to care for the life he created and to support it until it can support itself. Or if not, then to give the child to a person or institution that will. In supporting the child, he fulfills a responsibility. His governing of the child's behavior and actions as it grows is a service in caring for the child, in assuring it's safety and well-being to the best of his ability. He does not, however, gain the power to command the child for life. When the child reaches maturity, his governing is finished. The bond as a family remains (depending on how it was cultivated), but the control does not.
I am not an object or a slave. I am an adult child, a human being with free will (to my philosophical understanding, that is). So, if he does command me, I am not obligated to obey.
In my efforts to heal these relationships, I probably will obey him except in cases of extreme disagreement on my part. It's just liberating to know, or to have decided, that I believe I choose to obey, not that I must obey.
Father, I have taken one of your weapons. One day we will both drop them all, stand unarmed, and unclench our fists. Then we will talk.
So, father, I won't do anything about it. You never commanded me to do something about it. You suggested "the next time you or Terri go running, see if you can get him to follow you and leave him somewhere." If it is truly a suggestion, I have the option to offer further thoughts on the matter and say no if I choose.
I simply said I thought the dog would follow us back. You yelled at me. That is not constructive, not motivating, and it is rude. You did it because you are under a mountain of stress and have been for years, probably more years than I have been alive. You did it because the dog is yet another straw on your back, a devastating problem when you're carrying sprawling fields of straw on your back, and you have no patience left to give to this new problem. You simply want it taken care of. You have not truly considered how exactly I am to "leave" the dog somewhere, you just want me to do it. To you, my comment seems rude and unhelpful. And so, in your pain and the overwhelming weight you carry, you yell at me.
I was hurt at first, as I always am. But I choose now not to take offense. For the last few days, I have submitted to tears and lamenting the injustices I see. I choose a different way.
I do not expect you to change because you have tunnel vision and tunnel thinking. You're so hunched over from the weight you bear on your back that you only see half of things. You have so much pain, and no way to cope with it. Your shouting is your tears.
I, however, am slowly standing up and walking through my anger to enlightenment. As I open my eyes and examine the situation from all angles, I begin to see ways of healing. Because I am the one who is in a position to step back from the situation, empathize, and understand, I am the one who must enact the change.
Perhaps I am wrong and his "suggestion" was a command. The thing is... "The next time you do this, see if you can do this." If it is a command, it is a command to try. "See if you can." It is not of the format "The next time you do this, do this." I consider the situation, and see a potential problem that may prevent me from doing the desired action. I voice it. That is not disobedience, and it is not rude.
So. I feel no guilt about the matter.
I did nothing wrong, but I could have handled it better. In the state he is in, he does not want to discuss the problem. He does not want to deal with the problem at all. Therefore, a better answer would have been "Okay. I'll tell Terri and we'll try." If we tried and failed, we obeyed and did nothing wrong. If we didn't have occasion to try, we still did nothing wrong. And in the mean time, he would feel better because someone else would be dealing with/helping with the problem.
And if it was a command?
I am 19 years old. I am legally an adult. Please trust me that I do not subscribe to the saying "I'm 18, I do what I want!" However, I do believe as a legal adult, as someone who has begun college (which is essentially another independent life), I have the right to think and act for myself. I do not believe I am obligated to blindly obey my father simply because he is my father. I am his child, but I am now his adult child. I am not an extension of his body or of his will. I am a separate being.
I will not be shackled by blood. I will not be shackled by money. I am his child, but I am not his employee or his slave. He and my mother are paying for most of my education, but they are not buying my soul.
I am not his to command.
I must take commands from the government and from teachers because I choose to be a member of their institutions with the understanding that I must obey their laws.
No one chooses her father. Fathers choose to have children (or to risk having children). In making that choice, a parent is obligated to care for the life he created and to support it until it can support itself. Or if not, then to give the child to a person or institution that will. In supporting the child, he fulfills a responsibility. His governing of the child's behavior and actions as it grows is a service in caring for the child, in assuring it's safety and well-being to the best of his ability. He does not, however, gain the power to command the child for life. When the child reaches maturity, his governing is finished. The bond as a family remains (depending on how it was cultivated), but the control does not.
I am not an object or a slave. I am an adult child, a human being with free will (to my philosophical understanding, that is). So, if he does command me, I am not obligated to obey.
In my efforts to heal these relationships, I probably will obey him except in cases of extreme disagreement on my part. It's just liberating to know, or to have decided, that I believe I choose to obey, not that I must obey.
Father, I have taken one of your weapons. One day we will both drop them all, stand unarmed, and unclench our fists. Then we will talk.
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